Savage Machinery

By Karen Rigby (chapbook)
Finishing Line Press, September 2008
Review by Jessica K. Bacho

One of my New Year’s resolutions in 2008 was to read more poetry. Sure, as an English professor, I read more poetry than the average person, but that’s all of the canonized poetry (i.e. dead white men) found in the typical lit-class anthologies. This year, I wanted to focus on the not-so-famous poets out there, scribbling away in coffeehouses during their lunch break from their “regular” mind-numbing office job. So, I was more than pleased when Karen Rigby’s second chapbook, Savage Machinery (forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in September 2008), came across my desk.

Savage Machinery only contains sixteen poems, but it is a powerful collection. Topics range from a women bathing in burned house imagined and admired by passersby, to several poems on art, to a series of poems about food. Examining the themes of human connectedness, sensuality, and distance, without the use of first person narration, these poems were quite a (welcome) switch from the confessional mode of American poetry that’s dominated the past forty years. Rigby’s poetry is dense, not for those who like to read their poetry once, or find the meaning close to the surface.

The collection opens with “Bathing in a Burned House,” in which a woman still lives in her burned house, showering under the open sky. Men and women passing by the house imagine her, but never truly witness her. The women envy her freedom, while the men “long to be / the sky above the woman’s head.” I keep coming back to this poem, fascinated by this woman who is so envied by the people passing by her home. I sympathize with the women in the poem, envying a woman who embodies freedom, seemingly able to escape the domestic obligations of a housewife.

There are several poems in this collection that focus on art with references to Georgia O’Keefe, Edward Hopper, Leonardo Da Vinci, and Boucicaut Master. I’ve never studied art (not for lack of want, rather due to lack of time), and I have to admit, I didn’t fully understand these poems. But they did inspire me to explore these artists’ work so that I can revisit these poems and work through their meaning.

My favorite section of the chapbook is the series of incredibly sensual poems about food. Here’s a taste (ha, ha) from “Song for the Onion”:

Let me flay the double-heart
that stings or melts
to caramel depending on time, temperature, weather.
Let me taste the pure, explosive signature.
Let the lioness outshine her sisters.
the shallot and the leek.

I will never look at an onion the same way again. Reading this poem made me want to get out all of the onions in the house and bow before them. The other poems in this section examine Borscht, Bread, and Plums. Simple subjects on the surface, yes, but Rigby writes about them in such a way that makes them seem like they’re something newly discovered. Borscht “steams / like a horse combed to a rich gloss / for the May Day parade.” Makes me want to make Borscht (even though I’ve abhorred beets since birth) just to watch it steaming in the bowl.

So for the poetry lovers out there, set aside the Billy Collins, Sylvia Plath, my girl Anne Sexton, and all of those other rock star poets. Pick up Karen Rigby’s Savage Machinery, and settle in to your favorite reading place. You won’t be disappointed.

For more information about Karen Rigby and her work, visit http://www.karenrigby.com/.

Notes from Nethers

Notes from Nethers: Growing Up In A Sixties Commune
by Sandra Lee Eugster
Academy Chicago Publishers
Reviewed by Jessie

I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of communes and attempts at creating utopian societies. The idea of dropping out of mainstream society, living deliberately with like-minded people, and living off the land is so appealing when I find myself sitting in rush-hour traffic for hours, or realizing that I spend most of my time doing what is required or asked of me by others. But I’m not brave enough to make such a radical change in my life, so I rely on accounts of others who are.

Sandra Lee Eugster’s account of her childhood living on a commune, Nethers, of her mother’s creation is a fascinating commentary on the desire for radical social change and the counterculture of the 1960’s and 1970’s, but also on the effect of a parent’s choice to live outside the mainstream on her children.

Eugster’s mother, Carla, separated from her husband and moved with her three children (Eugster was nine years old) from Baltimore to rural Virginia, intent on making her dream of an intentional society come true. She believed that people should be free to do whatever kind of work they loved without concern for income. Her society would guarantee each member income, so that they could do whatever kind of work they loved.

From the sex ed classes where a Nethers member used a candle to demonstrate how to pleasure a man, to a sweat lodge ritual, to the eventual breakup of Nethers, the memoir features an interesting cast of characters and experiences. People came and went as they pleased, sometimes staying for months, or only a few days.

The children of Nethers were not formally educated, but took part in the experimental educational system of the commune, the “free” school. The adults believed that if children were allowed to follow their own interests, they would arrive at the desire to study and learn on their own.

But life at Nethers was far from ideal, and Eugster struggled with her desire to be a “normal” child or teenager, and the kind of life that was encouraged at Nethers. There were times when she wanted her mother to discipline her, or to eat forbidden candy and processed foods.

Eugster entered the commune experience a cheerful, talkative, curious girl. By the end, when she was seventeen, she was sullen and quiet, feeling abandoned. She writes of her life at Nethers:

“Captive to visionaries, I was in a constant made scramble to get with the dream. And it was something of a moving target, because I wasn’t the dreamer. Nearly all those at Nethers had chosen to be there for idealistic reasons, and they promulgated an ethos of love and tolerance that I took literally and very seriously. I didn’t know that they hadn’t themselves necessarily arrived at their espoused states of grace, I just knew that I fell short. Because I occasionally felt judgmental, jealous, or distrustful, I was often resentful and aggrieved, and sometimes I even lied.”

Most of the accounts of communes I’ve read were by those who lived through the experience as adults, so to read an account of someone who experienced it as a child was fascinating. As she points out in the above passage, she was not there as a “dreamer.” She was there because it was her mother’s dream, and as a minor, she had to go where her mother’s dream led her.

I’d highly recommend Notes from Nethers to anyone who is interested in an account of a counterculture commune, or a story of how a child is affected by their parent’s vision of a radical ideal lifestyle.

Dark at the Roots

Dark at the Roots: A Memoir
By Sarah Thyre
Counterpoint
Reviewed by Jessie

Dark at the Roots: A Memoir, by Sarah Thyre, is a humorous memoir of what it was like growing up in a lower-middle-class Catholic family in the 1970s. Thyre is best known for her work on Strangers with Candy and Upright Citizens Brigade, and readers will find her comedic works translates well in her amusing yet somewhat dark anecdotes.

Like most people, Thyre spent her childhood trying to fit in, even if it meant buying one precious Lacoste sweater, removing the alligator, and sewing it onto various pieces of clothing as she grew up. As the title implies, however, Sarah’s life was not all bright and shiny.

Thyre’s mother was a hippie Catholic who tried to steer her children in the right direction. She didn’t seem to have the ability to enforce her rules strictly because she loved her children and wanted to make them happy, even if it meant stealing money from her husband so that her daughter could attend an expensive summer camp in North Carolina.

Thyre’s father was an abusive man who, despite taking his children to Disneyland a few times, did not contribute to their well-being financially or emotionally, especially after he divorced Thyre’s mother. He was disappointedly indifferent to the needs of her his children, complaining that all they wanted from him was his money.

Thyre did everything she could to try to win over her classmates – running for Student Council President, doing impersonations of teachers or celebrities – but no matter what she did, Thyre was humbled time after time when her so-called friends saw through her façade and abandoned her because she wasn’t really cool enough. She sat helplessly out of the loop while all the other girls around her got their periods. Acting like royalty, Thyre’s peers complained of cramps, and flaunted their Super-Plus tampons and budding chests, while Thyre lamented her concave chest and her yet-to-arrive period.

Thyre tells her story with a wry sense of humor that is unabashedly honest, even when revealing an unfortunate sudden need to go “poddy” in her garage during a game of Sardines (a version of Hide and Seek) or her explorations of pornography and sex as a child. Still, the book lacks coherence at times, quickly jumping to the next humorous anecdote when it touches upon something too serious like her parents’ divorce hearing and Thyre’s inability to really “tear into” her father like she promised her family.

There are countless moments in the book that we can all relate to (whether we would like to admit it or not) – trying desperately to fit in with classmates, struggling with parents, or learning about the opposite sex. It was an enjoyable read that made me feel a little less alone knowing that there was someone else out there who wore mock-Tretorns in an attempt to fit in, even for a moment.